Psycho
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Murdock may be crazy, but he isn't psychotic...or is he? Face is about to find out. Oneshot.


Psycho

It was dark. That was the first thing Face noticed when he woke up. It wasn't just dark, it was pitch black, he couldn't see anything. But he remembered that at night, their motel room had light pouring in the windows from the neon sign out front; even when they closed the blinds the light still managed to get in. So what was going on now? Was there a blackout?

Face tried to get up and then it hit him that he wasn't lying down, and he realized that he wasn't in bed. He didn't know where he was but he had been asleep sitting up; he tried to turn and try to figure out where he was but he could hardly move his body. He felt like he was stuck in a tangle of sheets, but the more he struggled and nothing moved and nothing came loose, he knew that that wasn't the case, and after another minute of struggling, he started to panic as he realized, by the position his arms were in, that he was tied up in a straitjacket, Murdock's straitjacket! He tried to scream, to let the others know that whatever the practical joke was, _he_ was definitely not amused and he did not find it funny at all; but he couldn't scream, his tongue felt thick and had stuck to the roof of his mouth like flypaper because his whole mouth was so dry, he hadn't even realized until now that there was something in his mouth, gagging him.

What the hell was going on? He became frantic and his mind was racing, trying to remember anything that had happened before this. And something came to him, not a full memory, just little bits and pieces. He remembered something he'd seen through the corner of his eye; he hadn't said anything about it at the time, but he could've sworn that he'd seen Murdock drop something in his drink on the nightstand. Murdock had turned and looked at him with that innocent smirk he had mastered so well; Face should've realized then that something was up because he always looked at B.A. the same way after they drugged him and before he became unconscious.

"_Here you go, Face,"_ he'd said as he passed him the glass, _"You look like you could use a drink."_

Face didn't like the idea of asking Murdock if he'd actually put anything in it; at the time he'd been sure he was only seeing things, so he drank the water, it tasted like water, everything had to be fine, right?

And then what had happened? After he drank the water…he remembered a wave of fatigue had washed over him and he didn't even have the strength to get up from the bed. He fell back against the mattress and looked up at the ceiling; and he didn't know how much time had passed but he remembered the next thing he saw was Murdock standing over him, a different look on his face now, a more sinister one, and a sad look in his eyes as he said, _"I'm sorry, Face, but I can't take the chance."_

Face remembered trying to ask 'take the chance of what?' but the words wouldn't come and had only managed to half-form even in his brain. At first he had felt Murdock grabbing his wrists and he thought the pilot was tying him up; he didn't understand what was going on, was this another one of Murdock's jokes? He remembered being pulled up from the bed, and falling on the floor; he could feel hands grabbing his feet and tying them together. But when had Murdock put him in the straitjacket? And what the hell was this all about? He remembered something else that Murdock had said to him, just before everything went dark; in a cold, eerie tone he had told Face, _"Sorry, Templeton, but I can't risk you giving me away. Nobody can find out what happened."_

Slowly, Face started to realize why he was sitting up; there wasn't enough room where he was for him to lie down. Dark, confined, an enclosed space, his eyes widened as he realized Murdock had locked him in the closet. Why? What was going on? Where were B.A. and Hannibal? What was the gag here? He tried throwing himself against the wall to make enough noise that somebody might hear him and let him out, but he realized that was futile. Murdock had clearly spent _too_ much time in the V.A. because he had managed to somehow pad the walls so he didn't make any noise as he tried thrashing around. He tried to stay calm, he knew that he would have to force himself to stay calm; he wasn't claustrophobic but being tied up and locked in a tiny room where nobody could hear him all worked together to suddenly make it very difficult for him to breathe.

He wasn't ready to give up; he didn't care if the walls were padded, there had to be someway to let somebody know he was in here; he tried throwing his upper body against the wall even though it hardly made any noise. He tried again and again, eventually beating his head against the wall, all the while his mind was screaming, 'B.A., Hannibal, somebody! Murdock! Let me out!'

His breath caught in his throat when he heard a doorknob turning; somebody was coming into the motel room! But his heart sank to his stomach when he heard a voice and realized that it was Murdock. He also noticed that Murdock didn't sound like his usual self, _any_ of his usual selves; this voice was more than calm, cool and collective as he was forced to be on certain occasions. This voice was cold with a layer of charm over it, it sounded like another person entirely.

The door closed and he could hear Murdock say to somebody, _"I've always found that truly beautiful women are so hard to come by."_

Face heard a woman's laughter in response. Who was out there? What was going on? The woman said something in response but it was too low for Face to understand it. A few minutes passed and Face could hear both of them talking but heard only the voices, any words were too low to decipher. Halfway through the conversation he was able to make out Murdock saying to the woman, _"It is so good to see you again, it's been so long since I've been able to stop through here."_

There was more muffled conversation between them, and all of a sudden, Face heard the woman scream, and it ended abruptly and was replaced with a choking gasp. If Face could've actually moved, he would've jumped when he heard the sound of somebody being slapped, followed by the woman screaming again. He could almost hear as Murdock put his hands on her throat because the screams became weaker and guttural.

"You're just like all the rest," he heard Murdock say, clear as a bell, the murder in his voice loud and clear, "Who is he?"

He heard the woman gasp in response and say, "There isn't anybody, I swear!"

"You lie!" Face heard another slap, followed by the woman sobbing and Murdock was yelling at her, "All you've ever done is lie to me! You're a tramp, just like all the rest, they never change! Now you tell me who he is or I'm going to squeeze and squeeze your pretty little neck until you're nice and blue."

"I told you before, there isn't anybody else, there's only you!" the woman cried.

"I've heard that one before, that's what they _all_ said and they _all_ lied to me! And you…I thought you would actually be different, but you're _not_, you're just like my mother, you _never_ learn, just like all the other women, you filthy, lying _tramp_!"

Face didn't have any idea what was going on, none of it made any sense. He knew that Murdock was crazy, they _all_ knew that, had known it for years; and they knew that he had a dark side that counteracted the childlike person they knew and worked with frequently. A lot of times, Murdock's dark side shining through was just an act to either stall for time or to hold his doctors at bay, or anybody who interfered with their plans. But the sinister side of Murdock was also very real and just as unpredictable; there was never any telling when he would come out or what he would do though it was always violent, though Face did remember that usually it was only at a time when Murdock felt threatened, generally by authority figures like the doctors at the V.A., or the police, or the army whenever Lynch and his men came nosing around. Murdock very rarely lashed out and attacked any innocent bystanders, so what the hell was going on now?

Face couldn't identify what the crashing sound he heard next was but it sounded like the room was being torn apart. He could hear somebody running around the room outside and he heard Murdock scream at the woman as he apparently tried to catch her. The woman must've reached the door just before he snagged her back because Face could hear her beating on the door screaming for help before she screamed and he could hear her being thrown down on the bed.

He was killing her! He was killing her! That was the only thought going through Face's mind at that time as he tried to get loose from the straitjacket, even though he knew he couldn't. He tried hitting his body against the door again as well, and it too proved futile; nobody heard him, nobody knew he was there, and there was nothing he could do to help. He felt tears in his eyes and felt as if _he_ were the one being murdered, it about killed him that there wasn't anything he could do to help the poor woman out there, and it also killed him that this barbaric act was being committed by his own best friend. He had known Murdock for over 10 years, how could this be happening?

And then…another thought occurred to Face that made his heart sink, just how well _did_ he know Murdock? They had met in Vietnam, but he hardly knew anything about the man from _before_ that time. Was it possible that this was the true Murdock and the one they had worked alongside for so many years was just an act? Just another one of his created personas that he was notorious for using to drive the people around him crazy? Could it be possible? Yes, he supposed it could be, he felt sick as he realized that _had_ to be it because otherwise why would this be happening now? If it wasn't the case, what could've _made_ Murdock like this? _This_ couldn't have been the end result of him crashing his plane that B.A. had blamed for his being crazy, could it? Or could it? Maybe it was. Maybe the crash truly had made Murdock crazy…no, crazy wasn't the word, _psychotic_, that's what it had to be. But if it was true, how had they missed it for so long?

Face tried screaming through his gag but knew nobody outside could hear him anymore than they could hear him bashing himself against the walls; the only noise that _could_ be heard was the woman screaming and crying and the continual sounds of destruction that alternated between the room being torn apart and the poor woman repeatedly being battered, by the man Face would've sworn anybody could trust their life with. This realization made the cut of betrayal run deep and it hurt him just as if somebody had cut him open with a rusty scalpel and ripped him clear from side to side. He almost wondered if _he_ were the one that was actually going crazy, and that this whole nightmare was a mental breakdown he was experiencing; but the woman's screams cut through those thoughts like a hot knife through butter, he knew that it was _not_ in his mind, _he_ wasn't crazy. Murdock wasn't crazy either, he was a psychopath. The tears were pouring down his face now as he futilely continued to throw himself against the wall, even though he knew it wasn't of any use, how could this be happening? And the next question came to him and sent shivers down his spine, what was Murdock going to do to _him_ when he finished with the woman out there?

* * *

Face became aware that Murdock was standing over him and he shot up screaming. Murdock tried to grab him and tried to talk to him, but Face fought against him and was screaming at Murdock not to touch him. Murdock practically threw himself on Face and pinned him to the bed, it was only an afterthought that Face realized he was back on the bed in their motel room.

"Face, calm down or you're going to hurt yourself!" Murdock told him.

"Get away from me you psycho!" Face screamed at him as he pushed away, and fell out of bed and onto the floor.

He ran his hand through his hair and it was damp, his whole body was hot and covered with sweat. He glared up at Murdock and demanded to know, "What did you do with her?"

"What?" Murdock pretended he didn't know what Face was talking about.

"The girl, what did you do with her, Murdock?" Face accused, "Did you kill her? Where is she?"

The door to the room opened and two people stepped in; apparently the noise of him crashing on the floor had brought Hannibal and B.A. into the room. Hannibal went over to Face and knelt down beside him on the floor and he asked Murdock, "What happened?"

"I don't know, Hannibal," Murdock answered, "But I think his fever finally broke."

Face was pushing Hannibal's hands away from him, trying to tell him about the woman, when it hit him what Murdock had said. "What fever?"

When he stopped struggling, Hannibal felt his forehead and he said to Face, "Don't you remember, kid? You've been sick for the last two days."

"I have?" he honestly couldn't remember it.

"Yeah man," B.A. told him, "You been jabbering in your sleep as much nonsense as the fool does when he's awake."

Face looked back up at Murdock who looked somewhere between confused and hurt, and it hit Face what must've happened. He was sick, he ran a fever, it made him have a nightmare, that had to be it, and he had woken up, accusing Murdock of being a murderer. Oh boy did he screw this one up.

"Come on, Lieutenant," Hannibal said as he helped Face to stand up, "Let's get you back into bed."

"No," Face pushed away from Hannibal and said, "I don't want to lie down. I…" he turned and said, "I'm going to get a shower."

He went into the bathroom, shut the door behind him and went over to the sink. He leaned over it like he was going to throw up, but he only needed to catch his breath, and a drink; his mouth was dry and his throat burned and his tongue felt thick and like leather. He turned on the cold tap and cupped the water in his hand and drank half a dozen handfuls before turning the water off, and just hovered over the sink for a minute. Then he slowly sank down to the floor, brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face into his knees as he felt the tears running down his face. What a _horrible_ nightmare, he couldn't remember experiencing anything like that before in his life. And to accuse Murdock of killing someone, a woman no less, it was unthinkable, and he knew he would have to apologize to the captain. He felt so embarrassed for how he'd acted and the things he'd said; maybe the others could write it off as it just being from a fever, but he knew better. He had consciously accused Murdock of killing that woman, a woman who had never even been there.

After a while Face got up and turned on the shower and hoped when he stepped out, he'd feel better and maybe Hannibal and B.A. would be gone so he could apologize to Murdock without having to explain to the others what had happened. This was not something he wanted an audience present for.

* * *

Murdock had been sitting on the edge of his bed rocking back and forth when Face came out of the bathroom half an hour later. Fate must've been on his side because it _was_ just the two of them.

"Where're Hannibal and B.A.?" he asked, wanting to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Next door," Murdock answered as he stood up, "I told Hannibal I'd keep him posted about how you were doing."

Well, it wouldn't get any easier with time, Face swallowed the breath in him and said, "Murdock, I'm sorry about what happened earlier."

There was no malice to be read in the look on the pilot's face as he said, "Don't worry about it, Face, it was just a nightmare."

"Yeah," Face felt like it was a copout, even if it was true he felt like it was an excuse to try and sweep what he'd done under the rug. "A horrible one…" he laughed nervously as he said, "I dreamt that you tied me up in your straitjacket and locked me in the closet, and you had a woman in here and you were strangling her and beating her. That was horrible…" Face caught the stunned look on Murdock's face and he was worried he had upset the captain, but somehow he didn't think that was it. "What's wrong, Murdock?"

"Uh, Face, you better sit down, there's something I've got to tell you," he told him.

Face felt the prickle of pins and needles in his back and neck and he felt like the rug had just been pulled out from under his feet, "What is it?"

"Well calm down, Face," Murdock said, "It's not _quite_ like you think it is."

"Murdock, what's going on?" Face asked, the tension building in him until he thought he would burst from it.

"Well I'll tell you, Face, but I don't want you to get upset," Murdock told Face as he more or less pushed him to sit down on the bed.

"Murdock, what did you do?" Face demanded to know.

Murdock sat down opposite him on the other bed and he told Face, "You know I would never hurt you or anyone else who didn't deserve it, if I could help it, you know that don't you?"

If he could _help_ it?

"Murdock, what in God's name did you do?"

He could tell this wasn't easy for Murdock either; he looked like he'd stabbed his best friend in the back and Face realized what it meant. "You _did_ drug me."

"I gave you a dose of B.A.'s bedtime drink," Murdock admitted, "So you'd be asleep when it happened, then you wouldn't have to know anything."

"And you tied me up? You locked me in the closet?" Face couldn't believe it.

"I'm sorry, Face, but I had to," Murdock told him, "I was trying to keep you safe."

"What do you _mean_ trying to keep _me_ safe?" he demanded to know.

Murdock remained calm as he explained, "Hannibal and B.A. had gone into town to get lunch, and while they were gone I looked out the window and saw the men in green arriving, with Lynch leading the way. I figured if Lynch thought this room was occupied by a man and his wife, he wouldn't look in here. So I ran out and talked to one of the maids and asked her to come in here and help me. I told her that I was working for one of the leading agents in Hollywood and we were looking for some new blood and wanted an unknown actress for a new hit movie…and we were going to put her through sort of a blind audition."

"What?" Face was dumbstruck by this explanation.

"I told her that while she was pretty enough for the job, what we needed were vocals, we had to hear her and hear a range of different emotions from her, that it was a new thing we were doing in Hollywood, movies that were like radio, so appearance was secondary, but she had to have a good vocal range. I told her that we were going to go through an improvised audition one time, and I wanted her to play along with what I did and scream and cry and yell and do all of that, because we were working on a domestic drama."

"But I heard you beating her, I heard this place being torn apart," Face told him.

"Not quite, what you heard was this," Murdock slapped himself on the arm, "And I did kind of turn over the furniture in here, but nothing was broken and since she cleans the rooms she helped me get everything put back when it was over. Lynch must've bought it because nobody ever came in here during it."

Well that explained part of it, but Face was still confused. All of that had to have been done _after_ Murdock knocked him out and tied him up. "Why did you tie me up and lock me in the closet? And what did you mean by 'you couldn't risk me giving you away?'"

"We told you that you had a fever," Murdock reminded him, "You were delirious and were talking in your sleep and rambling on when you were awake. I was worried you might start again when the MPs came by…I'm sorry, Face, I know it was a rotten thing to do but I had to make sure they didn't find us, and I had to make sure you stayed quiet. So…yes, I put you in the straitjacket and I gagged you, and I lined the walls with extra pillows and blankets so you couldn't make any noise. I feel terrible about it but I didn't know what else to do. I never would've done it if you were well, but you were sick and I wasn't going to let them catch us with you being as sick as you were."

It was starting to make sense now; it was still crazy, but given it was one of Murdock's plans that was to be expected.

"Do Hannibal and B.A. know?" Face asked.

Murdock shook his head, "I haven't told them yet, I'm not sure that they'd like what I did."

Coming from B.A., that would just be status quo, but it was something else if Hannibal wasn't pleased with something they'd done.

"How long did it take?" Face asked, realizing it had to take quite a while for everything to occur if he'd had B.A.'s knockout juice and woken up in time to hear all the fireworks.

"Oh I'd say they were in and out of here in about an hour…I didn't want to risk overdosing you because B.A.'s a lot bigger and can take the dosage we give him, so I guess the problem was I didn't give you enough."

That was alright with Face, he strongly detested drugs of all kinds and they all knew it.

"And you…you thought of all that?" Face still had trouble processing this sudden explanation.

Murdock nodded with a smirk, "And I did it all with my own two little hands," he added jokingly.

"I'll believe that," Face tried to laugh at this sudden turn of events.

He saw Murdock smile and knew that the captain was relieved to know that there were no hard feelings between them for what had happened.

"I'm impressed, Murdock," Face told him, though he still felt like a heel and didn't know _how_ to apologize for what he'd done, "I can't believe I actually thought that you had it in you to attack someone like that."

"Well how do you know that I don't?" Murdock asked.

Face could tell Murdock was just egging him on, but he thought he had the perfect answer.

"Because you're crazy," he shook his head, "Not psychotic."

Murdock apparently took this as a high compliment and said with a big grin, "Why thank you, Face…but you know, I can't help but wonder who the really psychotic one is around here."

"Why's that?" Face asked.

"Well they went past all the rooms when this was going on, they heard her screaming for help, and nobody ever came in to do anything about it. Doesn't that make them the psychotics?"

"It definitely makes them something," Face agreed.

"Oh!" Murdock remembered something and jumped off the bed, "I'll be right back." He went to the door and ran out, and Face couldn't figure out what he was doing now, but got his answer when Murdock returned with a young blonde on his arm.

"Mr. Peck, this is Cynthia Masterson, the young woman who auditioned for us earlier today. I explained to her that you were listening to her audition through the wall in the room next door earlier, under the guise of being just another guest in this motel, but you wanted to actually see her for your own eyes to see if she's what we're looking for in our next picture."

Face couldn't help flashing his trademark smile at the young bubbly girl in the maid outfit, who smiled sheepishly at him in return and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Oh it's…very nice to meet you too," Face said, and in his mind he added 'and to see that you're alive'.

The woman smiled nervously and asked him, "Did you really like my audition?"

"Oh…" Face leaned back, "I was blown away…you are a very convincing actress."

She giggled and said, "Thank you, Mr. Peck."

Murdock looked at the maid and told her, "I think you've aced the audition, but would you mind doing the scream one more time so we can be sure?"

"Oh certainly," the woman took in a small breath and let out a loud, long, blood curdling scream, that was only too familiar for Face's comfort and he could feel his nerves actually frazzling by the noise.

"You would be a perfect scream queen in one of our horror movies. I…" Face quickly put together a story to sell her on and said, "I'll have to get back to our partners in Hollywood to see if we have a casting choice in mind yet, but if you'll give me your number and address, I'll let you know when we make a decision. And I'd like to thank you for working so well with my assistant here," he looked at Murdock through the corner of his eye and smirked at him, "I know he can be a handful at times."

AN: I got the idea to do this story after seeing Dwight Schultz in an episode of "Jake and the Fatman", playing a killer that I thought well defined the difference in being just crazy like Murdock, and a psychotic like David Thompson. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
